After 27 years of living, you’d think I’d be used to the 24 hours that occur every day. And yet, I’m not. I constantly feel like there is too much to do, and not enough time. I keep waiting for the days to get longer, but they never do. In a perfect world, I’d have more time to workout, read, relax, blog, cook, have sex, garden, shop, clean, nap, volunteer and organize – in no particular order.  I’d be the best employee ever, I’d learn to scrapbook, have our Thailand trip planned, and I’d be able to spend quality time with all of my family and each of my friends.  I would write more personal notes and mail them. I’d make thoughtful, home-made birthday gifts and I’d prepare crazy-romantic dinners. I’d finally study for the gmat and I’d learn to play the piano beautifully…with time left to watch all my Netflix and become proficient in Adobe Premiere Pro. I’d write that novel that’s stashed away in my nightstand – in fact, I’d write two. I’d go for more bike rides and play bocce ball more often. I’d host more dinners and throw parties. I would make more time for picnics, star-gazing and internet surfing. I’d always get my oil changed on time. And then I’d get a good 8 hours of sleep.

Sometimes I feel like I’m going through life half-ass. Trying to accomplish a lot, and instead not doing anything well. It’s kind of a helpless, sinking feeling.  Something’s gotta give.

Generally speaking, I’m a go-getter. I don’t ignore problems; I address and remedy situations efficiently and quickly. I’m not a procrastinator. It’s just who I am and it holds true for pretty much everything in my life (can you sense the “but” coming here?) except when it comes to dentistry. I hate going to the dentist. And no, hate is not a strong word in this case. Many of you will recall that I have deep rooted dental issues and quite possibly the worst teeth EVER.

Until last year, I hadn’t gone to the dentist in over five years. It was one of my new year’s resolutions/goals to go. And let me tell you, I’ve opened up one nasty can of worms. Tomorrow morning I go back to the dentist for my 5^th appointment of the year to get “prepped” for a crown. Honestly, I’m sitting here stewing about it and aching to cancel the appointment (which I’ve already done once). Why did I ever go in the first place? I wish I would have ignored the problem for another five years. Ignorance is bliss (and as it turns out…money in your pocket too).

Here is a little snapshot into my mind today – in no particular order:

I FINALLY paid off my car. After two years of pretending like it was a priority – I finally MADE it a priority. This morning I sucked it up and wrote the big check.  I know I made the right decision, however I feel slightly nervous about the whole thing because it took a sizable chunk out of my savings.

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Ok, I’m not going to bore you with the details of my dreams – because NOBODY likes dream stories. Just admit it – nobody does. Don’t fool yourself and think that yours are good. They aren’t. Nobody cares; they are pretending because they don’t want to hurt your feelings.

BUT I will tell you that I always dream about work. My dreams are always monopolized  by work, I know…lame! In the last two weeks I’ve had two very strange dreams about cruising. I guess it could be worse. I could be a plumber and have dreams about poop every night. Occupational hazard.

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There is a particular little drama plaguing my mind right now. I know it’ll all work out in the end – and I probably have nothing to worry about – but I can’t let it go. Let’s call it “problem A” for right now. Every time I think about problem A, I get frustrated and am overwhelmed by massive amounts of anxiety. It feels like stomach acid eating away at my sanity and rationalization. Lovely.

Like most annoying problems, I know that Problem A is only a small part of the picture. At the root of the issue is the larger problem…Problem ABC.

The good news is that this post was fairly therapeutic and I already feel a little better. The post was like an antacid for my anxiety. Ha!

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Why do people get naked at the gym? I swear, some women ENJOY walking around the locker rooms buck naked making everyone look at them. Ew. It’s never “pretty bodies” either. It reminds me of a Jello-jiggler. Can’t we all just be a little more discrete?

As you may remember from yesterday’s post, I was having extreme anxiety about going to the dentist. Well, today I was brutally reminded why I don’t go to the dentist.  Here’s the short version of the story. 

Stats

• Cavities: 1
• Crowns needed: 1 (aren’t crowns for grandparents? Just hand me a cane too while you’re at it)
• Hours for deep cleaning needed: 4 (need to schedule that appt – fun)
• Braces Needed: Yes (but not likely going to happen anytime soon – boo, hiss, snarl)
• Baby Teeth Remaining: 5
• Extra teeth in mouth: 1
• Wisdom Teeth: Nope (never had ‘em.  I swear. They called me “especially evolved”)
• Plaque condition: Good
• Gum condition: Fair

Highlights

• Nitrous Oxide (overall, it’s pretty decent stuff)
• The staff was friendly
• The hygienist actually described himself as “smokin’ hot”.  Hilarious.

Lowlights

• Nausea that followed the appt – probably from the nitrous oxide
• The staff reassuring me that I am a freak and a modern medical miracle. 
• The really fun and detailed dental plan that they put together for me – complete with a budget.  As if my parents didn’t spend enough freaking money on my teeth, now I have to too. Awesome. Effing awesome. 

I am ashamed to say that it has been a little over five years since I’ve been to the dentist. I’m not really sure where those five years went and I have no excuse for not going. But now that it’s been so long, I’m really nervous about going.

I suspect that my dental issues are deep rooted. As a child, I had mangled teeth. I’m talking ugly, crooked, buck teeth. As if that wasn’t torture enough, I had a severe overbite. I suffered through five years of orthodontics during which my mouth housed every possible dental contraption known to mankind: braces, retainers, spacers, head gear (2 different kinds), rubber bands, etc. I had one retainer that I still remember vivdly – it was called a Bionator. I know, it sounds like a weapon of mass destruction. It clamped my upper and lower jaw together at all times, so I had to learn how to talk without opening my mouth. Not very much fun for a 4^th grader. One dentist actually turned my mouth into a case study to discuss and ponder at his weekly dental meetings. I think he thought this would make me happy, but instead I recoiled in disgust.

In 9^th grade, they finally removed my braces and I cried all day. Of course I was happy to get them off, but I felt like I was losing a part of myself. Without them, I looked different and my teeth felt slimy.

I’m sure tomorrow will be fine (I’m hoping they can give me nitrous oxide to curb my anxiety). I know I need to break my dental boycott before all of my teeth fall out. I fully suspect that I have a mouthful of cavities. They will marvel at my five remaining baby teeth and doubt me when I tell them I’ve never had wisdom teeth. I hope my kids get my husband’s teeth.